


Bookworm Your Way (Into My Heart)

by dansunedisco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bookstores, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Girls Kissing, Mutual Pining, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“That invitation looks swanky,” Lydia said, swiping a tube of gloss across her lips. “Wedding?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, I wish. A wedding would be much less painful,” Cora replied, shoulders sagging. “It’s our annual family get-together.”</i>
</p><p>Cora owns a bookstore. Lydia is her employee. When the annual Hale family reunion invite calls for Cora to bring a plus-one, Lydia offers to play the part of her girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bookworm Your Way (Into My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkhale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkhale/gifts).



> A slightly longer, cleaned up bonus version of [this](http://punkcorahale.tumblr.com/post/112115212738/cordia-bookstore-au-maybe-with-secret-book-nerd).

“You changed the storefront,” Lydia said, drumming her nails along the counter, eyes sizing Cora up like she was finding the best incapacitating pressure points. “You said I had free reign.” 

“Free reign _within reason_ ,” Cora said. There might have been a time, just a very brief blip on the radar, when she had been intimidated by Lydia Martin--if only because the redhead could walk for hours on pinpoint high heels without complaint--but she sure as hell wasn’t cowed anymore. “For the last time, we’re a bookstore. Children walk past every day. I really don’t need little Bobby running home to mom to tell her about the new BDSM section--”

“Bobby’s mom’s panties are still wet from 50 Shades,” Lydia interrupted primly, and--well, Cora had to admit she had a point. “Is it my fault I’m trying to actually introduce real, _safe and consensual_ kink into people’s lives?”

“Do that on your own time, sweetheart.” 

Lydia pursed her lips. “Are you trying to tell me something, boss?” she asked, the honorific anything but, leaning over the counter to show--very deliberately--a slip of cleavage. “Because I _do_ look great holding a whip.”

Cora leaned in too, too used to Lydia and her schemes to be charmed, and whispered, “Use it on yourself and get back to work, slacker.”

Lydia huffed and threw her hands up. “I swear, I try to do _one_ thing for this damn store.” 

Cora waved her off with a tired, "Yeah, whatever” and watched Lydia whirl away into the stacks. She waited a solid minute, then pressed the heels of her palms against her closed eyes. God, what was wrong with her? 

It was getting increasingly difficult to not say 'screw the potential sexual harassment lawsuit, are you serious about your offer?' every day. Because there was no denying it: she had inadvertently developed feelings. Feelings that never, ever should have surfaced in the first place.

It was all Derek’s fault, too. Cora wouldn’t have been in this predicament if he hadn't run off with some hipster tech kid with a spark, begging (as much as he could or would, anyway) his youngest, most adoring sister to take over management until the summer was over. In a rare moment of sibling tenderness, Cora had agreed, leaving herself the sole employee for their busiest season.

 _Moonrakers_ had been in the Hale family for generations. The name was a little too on the nose for Cora, but it had been chosen long before she was born, or even a thought in her parents' heads. Late grandma Hale, who'd named the place, had had a strange sense of humor, especially so after discovering her only son had eloped with a werewolf, and an alpha with her own territory no less. At least, that's the way their mother told the story. Nevertheless, their little bookstore was a real cornerstone of Beacon Hills, and never seemed to lull in business, no matter how hard Barnes  & Nobles tried to poach.

Cora had worked the counter off and on throughout high school (and had come back on a permanent basis after her stint in Colombia as a rare book collector had almost ended with her six feet under). But it became quite apparent, in the early weeks of May, that she wouldn’t be able to run it alone. So she had put out an ad for Help Wanted, subtly calling for someone who would keep quiet and work the hours she didn’t want. A Derek double, in essence. 

Lydia had been the very first to show up with a resume and, by the time the interview ended, had weaseled her way into being hired for a whole dollar an hour more, with weekends off. It had dazzled Cora just as much as it had frustrated her, but, in the end, Lydia had been a perfect match. While her outfits and mannerisms might have pointed her towards employment at a Starbucks or an H&M, she was whip smart, had a voracious appetite for knowledge, and was never afraid to put people in their place when they swerved out of line. A real-life ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ story. 

No, Cora wasn’t in love. But it was hard to deny the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she caught Lydia’s scent, even when she wasn’t around; the way her wolf rose to the surface, a subconscious sign of trust and closeness, when she was. No, it wasn’t love at all.

 

* * *

  

(Not yet. But, in hindsight, it was foolish to think it was anything but inevitable.) 

 

* * *

 

 

The invitation came in the mail a week later, fancy parchment paper with fancier script that invited Cora Hale and a guest to the annual Hale family reunion. She was flicking it with her finger, mentally congratulating her mother’s unsubtle attempt at weedling Cora into bringing a potential “girlfriend, boyfriend, someone, _anyone_ , sweetie” when a phone call would have sufficed, when Lydia popped into her personal bubble.

“Looks swanky,” she said, swiping a tube of gloss across her lips. “Wedding?” 

“No, I wish. A wedding would be much less painful,” she replied, shoulders sagging. “It’s our annual family get-together.” 

“The one where you’re constantly asked by Aunt Constance why a beautiful woman like you is still single, heavily hinting at major personality flaws? I’ve heard this one before. _Yawn_.” Lydia plucked the invitation from Cora’s grip and turned it over to the RSVP section. “Your mother is really gunning for someone to make an honest werewolf out of you, huh?” 

Cora rolled her eyes and snatched the invitation back. “Aunt Constance is a gem,” she growled. “But--yes. Derek was the last stronghold between me and the nagging. Now that he’s crumbled, mom’s clear to pounce on me.”

Lydia hmm’ed, eyes glinting in a way Cora had come to recognize as conniving. “Why don’t you take me as your plus one?”

She rolled her eyes, but Lydia continued on, undeterred, “It’s a flawless plan! A few days of fawning over me should come naturally by now.” 

“Are you forgetting you _work_ here?” Cora asked, starting to sweat at the idea. It was true; faking her adoration would come naturally--too naturally. “I can’t ask you to fake-date me.”

“Sure you can. No one but Derek knows who I am, and we spend more than enough time around each other that we can come up with something convincing,” she said, yanking the invitation back and scribbling in the RSVP before Cora could stop her. “There, done.” 

Cora was speechless, and doubly suspicious. Lydia was notoriously selfish--not a _bad_ person, per se--but too smart to navigate the world without mapping out her moves, five steps ahead of everyone else, the long game her ultimate goal. She'd seen just as much when the Chanel store had gone on sale. There was a catch to all this, she was sure of it, but no small part of her wanted to pretend Lydia had turned an altruistic leaf. Still, Cora was no fool. She narrowed her eyes and asked, “What’s in this for you?”

Lydia smirked, dimples on a show. “Let’s settle for an ‘I owe you one’ this time, Hale.”

Cora bit her lip, stomach unsettled, feeling like this would be the worst decision she would make since entrusting an original print of _Metallotheca_ to a collector Uncle Peter had vetted. But Lydia was right--it was a pretty damn good plan, if Cora really wanted to shake her mom off her back for the next year. She and Lydia worked in close quarters, their scents blending naturally. It was the easiest way to cheat werewolf senses. There was no reason for anyone to be suspicious, so they wouldn’t be nitpicking; if anything, her family would be more likely to overlook strange behavior.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

(She dropped the invitation into the mailbox later that day. Unbeknownst to her, this would, in fact, turn out to be the _best_ decision she’d ever made. Really.)

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next few weeks, she and Lydia hammered out the details of their faux-relationship. They had met in May (true), Lydia had made the first move (also true), it was still casual (in a sense), but Cora was thinking of taking it to the next level and the annual family reunion was the perfect excuse (more true than either of them knew). 

While Cora was plagued with a vague sense of dread that something terrible would happen by lying to her alpha--it was also breathtakingly fun imagining her fake-life with Lydia; brainstorming for convincing dates ("We need to have at least two memorable outings for anecdotal purposes"), the photography session they held around town ("It’s a selfie world; get in close, no, closer"), and one very memorable Thursday when Lydia had brought in a nightshirt for Cora to keep ("Put it in your nightstand or whatever. You're the werewolf"). By the time August rolled around, Cora could almost pretend, if she closed her eyes, that Lydia spent every night in her bed. That they were more than lukewarm friends--or, rightfully, a manager and her employee. 

“This might not end well,” Derek said, when she finally confided the ruse to him the night before she was supposed to pick Lydia up. “You’re pretty good at lying, but I guarantee Laura’s gonna sniff this one out.”

“Thanks for being zero help,” Cora snapped.

She heard Derek sigh over the line, likely exasperated, or troubled by the lengths she was willing to go for a lie. “I know mom can be overbearing, but she’s the alpha. She’s just… looking out for us, the best way she knows how.”

Cora’s heart squeezed. “You know how it is with her, though. You couldn’t wait to shake her off your back,” she said, plucking at the pills on her ratty, old duvet. “Thanks for that, by the way. It took her, oh, two days to move on to me and my dismal love life after you decided to roadtrip up the Oregon coast with what’s-his-face.”

Derek snorted. “It wasn’t planned, I promise,” he said, and she could tell by the fondness in his voice that he was making very uncharacteristic heart eyes. He sighed again. “I’ll keep your secret safe this time, Cor. Just try not to dig yourself too deep.”

“Impossible,” she said, gaze unwittingly drifting over to the drawer where Lydia’s Betty Boop t-shirt was tucked safely away. “Trust me.”

 

* * *

 

(Ha. Sometimes werewolves said the darndest things.)

 

* * *

 

The drive to the cabin was peaceful; as peaceful as a five hour drive with Lydia could be, in any case. She had Cora lug two full suitcases around for her that morning, commandeered the music right away, and often remarked on Cora’s _perfectly adequate_ driving skills (thank you very much), but otherwise let herself be chauffeured in silence. Until, of course, the family cabin came into view. 

“Oh my god,” Lydia crowed, “that’s not a _cabin_.” 

“Made of wood, therefore a cabin.” 

Lydia turned a resentful glare Cora’s way. “It has two and a half stories. A _balcony_ and a wraparound porch. I was expecting a shanty out of the Oregon Trail. That--” she snapped, stabbing a pointed finger at the window, “is the freakin’ Great Wolf Lodge.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fretting over luxury. How unlike you.” 

“It’s the principle of the matter,” she sighed. “My own girlfriend failing to disclose the exact state of our accommodations… why, it stings.”

“You’ll survive.”

To say Cora was unaffected by Lydia’s choice of words would have been a blatant lie. They hadn’t quite discussed labels in all of their elaborate planning, but it sounded right. It felt right. For the fake-relationship. Right.

She pulled in beside Uncle Peter’s flashy Porsche, shoving her feelings down and away for the time being. She could finally sense the pack, their bonds strong and pure. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the welcome wagon descended upon them. “You ready?” she asked, after a calming breath. “We can always--

Lydia surprised her silent by planting a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek, then pulling back with a wink. “Someone’s watching,” she explained, tilting her head towards the cabin. “Come on, it’s time to enchant your family.”

 

 

Uncle Peter was the first to succumb to Lydia’s charms, the rest of the betas falling quickly in line. Even Laura, the one person Cora had been worried would discover the truth within the first three minutes, seemed impressed--and, most importantly, convinced. She’d even given an approving thumbs-up when Lydia’s back was turned.

The rest of the afternoon sailed by smoothly, the swarm of younger cousins whisking Lydia away to the swimming lake beyond the trees out back. Cora could hear their laughter, Lydia’s protestations about getting her hair wet, and the huge splash when she was finally caught and thrown in. Cora wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt… calm, centered. It was strange, but she felt good, _too_ good, to bother digging into the whys. 

She was leaned up porch railing, staring off at nothing and entirely content about it, when her mother finally stepped in. 

“You look happy,” she said, after a long moment.

Cora nodded slowly. “I am.”

Mom brushed a lock of Cora’s hair away from her forehead, tucking it smoothly behind her ear. It was a scenting touch as well as it was a mother’s touch, all approval and love. “I’m happy for you, baby,” she said. “Lydia seems wonderful.” 

If Cora had felt bad about lying before--well, nothing compared to the moment when she realized her mother had fallen for it and was actually, _truly_ happy for her. But, really, what had she been expecting? To show up with Lydia and every single person--pack members who _trusted_ her, implicitly--to call her out their relationship for the fake that it was? Was her mother’s hounding really that bad; so bad that it was better to blatantly lie to her face than deal with the phone calls and mild badgering? They had three days more to go. Cora wasn’t sure she’d survive the guilt. She swallowed thickly and turned back to the trees, silently cursing Derek out for being one hundred percent right.

 

 

“You look terrible,” Lydia said. She was toweling her hair dry, standing in the doorway of their en suite bathroom, wearing nothing but a silk robe. It was straight out of Cora’s more intimate fantasies, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to enjoy the view.

Dinner had been a chaotic affair--one giant table with far too many elbows and hungry werewolves--and Cora had spent most of it chewing over the best way to tell Lydia she wanted to come clean. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t think this was the best plan.”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow. “This was my plan,” she said, hanging her towel on the door hook. “My plans are flawless.”

“Sure, if I want to remain a lying asshole to my entire family, but I don’t,” she said. “They _like_ you, Lydia. My mom thinks you’re-- _this_ is real.” 

It felt like a confession, a little too close to the truth: that Cora wanted nothing more than for it to be real, too. She swallowed, feeling shaky and unsure in her skin as Lydia watched her silently, an unknown emotion flickering across her face after a moment.

“And what about you?” she asked.

Cora hesitated. “I don’t know--?”

Lydia stepped forward slowly, cautiously, her heart rate at odds with the serene expression she wore, until she was between Cora’s legs. “If you don’t want this… then let _this_ be my ‘I owe you one’,” she whispered, leaning down until she could press her mouth against Cora’s. 

Cora wasn’t expecting to whimper into it, but she did, hands shooting up to cradle the back of Lydia’s head, thumbs brushing tenderly at the hinges of her jaw. Lydia was just as responsive, her fingers tangling into Cora’s hair with a breathy sigh; it didn’t take long before she lowered herself onto Cora’s lap, knees dipping into the bed, naked thighs against Cora’s clothed ones.

When they pulled apart, they were both panting, eyes glossed over and lips red. 

“That was one hell of an IOU,” Lydia murmured, scooting back an inch on Cora’s thighs. “More than I was hoping for, actually.”

“Hoping for…?”

“Am I not obvious, Hale?” She frowned. “Why in the world do you think I work at a bookstore?”

 

* * *

 

(No one ever said humans were better than werewolves at handling their feelings.)

 

* * *

 

Cora’s guilt didn’t wash away clean with Lydia’s confession--that she’d been harboring feelings for Cora just as long as Cora had for her. While the ensuing argument began with the both of them frustrated at the other for holding out for so long (“We could have been making out for _months_ , Hale; _months_ ”), it had _definitely_ ended on much better terms. 

Still, the next morning, Cora woke early and found her mother waiting for her on the porch. One look from Talia had her spilling the truth, the entire months-long scheme she and Lydia had concocted to pull the wool over her alpha’s eyes, but Talia held up her hand with a weary sigh. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Wait. You knew?” Cora asked, astonished by her mother’s knowing look.

“I knew she cared for you, and you cared for her,” she said. “The rest was just semantics. Just try to keep it down at night, sweetie. The walls aren’t as soundproof as you think.” 

“ _God,_ MOM.” She flushed straight scarlet, groaning all the while.

 

(See? It all worked out in the end.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! <3
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr!](http://punkcorahale.tumblr.com)


End file.
